


She had plans tonight

by itendswithz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Lydia Martin, Drabble, Gen, Sassy Lydia, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:23:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itendswithz/pseuds/itendswithz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia doesn't have time to save the pack again, she had plans for tonight. Sometimes enemies are just so inconsiderate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She had plans tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Lydia says some mean things in this, but that's why we love her right?

What these witches don’t understand is that Lydia didn’t choose any of this. She didn’t choose to be manipulated by Peter Hale. She didn’t choose to have Derek Hale as her shitty alpha. She didn’t choose to discover that her love was strong enough to bring her boyfriend back from the dead, but not strong enough to keep him by her side.

And she certainly wouldn’t have chosen to have Stiles “I have magic? Awesome! Don’t worry Lydia, I’ll Always Find You Magical” Stilinski as a friend.

No, if Lydia had a choice in any of this supernatural shit, she wouldn’t even be here right now. But she didn’t have a choice and she’s grown attached to her idiots.

She thinks this as she starts walking towards the abandoned warehouse Beacon Hills is apparently full of. Less than twenty minutes ago, she had gotten a phone call telling that if she ever wanted to see her pack alive again she’ll come here alone. Apparently, her life is a cliché now.

Lydia sees the wards before she reaches the door. Brilliant pinks swirls dance around dark greens slashes on the building’s façade. She recognizes the pattern from the wards Stiles favors. Lydia can’t stop the smile at the memory of when he realized that the first spell he cast was a combination of his and Derek’s favorite colors. He’s easily amused. 

Like a lap dog.

If memory serves correct, and it does, this ward is supposed to break the hand of anyone entering the territory who intends to do harm. Lydia smirks as she wraps her recently manicured hand around the door handle. She pulls and the pinky nail chips. Damn. Looks like tomorrow will be another spa day. 

Three steps into the candle-lit work floor and Lydia is ready to just walk away. Nothing is worth enduring this level of incompetence. First, candles. Really. That doesn’t even justify an eye roll. Second, the witch who stops her is literally a walking disaster.

Her auburn hair is a mess of curls and clearly hasn’t been brushed in weeks. She’s wearing a silk green blouse and a floor length, flower-themed skirt. She’s also barefoot and standing at full height with eyes sparkling with unfounded pride and confidence.

“Stop right there!” She nearly shrills. 

“I’m five feet away, no need to shout,” Lydia answers. “Actually, no need to talk to me at all. You should really just run back to what Wiccan outcast group they found you in.”

Lydia would be lying if she said the way the girl’s face fell didn’t make her smile. Too easy. “You’ll pay for that,” she snarls before raising her arms dramatically. 

“Cruciata!” The witch yells and throws her arms down and outward towards Lydia. 

The spell hits Lydia dead center, but instead of making her writhe in pain, all Lydia feels is a slight tingle all over. Kind of like when a butterfly lands on you. _At least she has good aim_ , Lydia thinks. 

Lydia huffs and gives this moron her full attention. “You don’t have to say the spell name out loud. This isn’t Harry Potter.” Lydia laughs. She then gives the witch her patented You Think **You** Can Talk To Lydia Martin look before dismissing her and walking forward. She hears someone crying, but that’s none of her concern.

She enters the warehouse proper and takes in the scene. Dead center is the High Priest, a thirty-something man with acne scars, clad in a full-body black robe, standing over Stiles with a sacrificial digger in one hand while the other holds a book open. It’s probably his grimoire, and if he doesn’t have that thing memorized than Lydia isn’t even going to bother to kill him. It’ll be easier to just let his own stupidity do it.

Stiles for his part, is naked (which disgusting, Lydia did not need to see that), tied down spread eagle on a forgotten work station. He’s gagged – thank God, she does not want to hear his running commentary right now – and has some shapes drawn with an ointment mixture all over his body.

Clearly, they were lying when they said she’d get her pack back alive. Lydia has to admit, she’s a little impressed. It’s cutthroat. She likes it. 

A glance to her left reveals Derek, Scott and Isaac knocked out and trapped within a ring of mountain ash. That’s a bitch. They’ve experimented with her immunity capabilities. She can walk over mountain ash, but she can’t move it. Stiles will have to free the pups. 

She takes four strides towards the main idiot when one of his lackeys comes out of a shadow. It’s straight out a John Grisham novel she has to cringe. This time it’s a teen wannabe Hugh Jackman in a full-body red robe. It’s so hard to contain this eye roll especially after Head Honcho’s face breaks into a grin. 

Without warning, the young witch shouts, “Glacio.” 

But his aim is way off. Lydia has to reach out just to feel the slight chill slip through her fingers. She looks back at the wolves to make sure she broke the spell completely and is delighted to see that they’re okay.

She faces the boy and smiles the same smile she gave Ashlee Rottison when that shallow harpy asked how Jackson was doing. The boy flinches like the good little plebian he is. Maintaining eye contact, Lydia pulls one of the knives out of her boot and whips it at the witch. She makes sure to throw it wide in case he doesn’t know how to duck.

The teen huddles into himself, like she knew he would and falls to his knees crying. Pathetic really. “Stay down,” she says as calmly as possible. “Or the next one’s going in your eye.”

He whimpers.

Lydia turns to the main witch, the one that caused her to pause mid-viewing _The Notebook_ only to find him chanting. She can’t understand his mumbles, but she feels his spell as it blasts her. 

She closes her eyes as the wave passes. She doesn’t feel anything and wonders what he was trying to do and finds her answer when her hair fizzes into view. Now she’s pissed.

“Do you have any. Idea. How long this takes?!” Lydia yells as she advances towards him.

He blinks furiously before scrolling through the book and mumbling something else. She doesn’t even pause in her pursuit when this enchantment hits, just keeps walking forward. She thinks that one had something to do with blades because her skin tingles again. But it means nothing in the face of her anger.

This asshole has officially ruined her night. 

Flipping through more pages, he fires off another incantation but he’s sweating nervously and the energy just disperses when it touches her. Now that she’s standing in front of him, she slaps the book out of his hand. He raises the blade, but a knife hand to his side has the simpleton crumbling to the ground.

"What part of I'm immune to magic do you not understand?” Lydia starts. “Let me explain what that means, because clearly, you need it. It’s simple, if you do anything to hurt one of my boys and any protection spell or charm you cast will crumble before me. I will track you down and kill you. 

"And since we all know that death isn’t always permanent, I will be forced to remove your heart, brain and every other organ I feel like before burning each of those in separate pyres. Then I’ll collect the ashes and place them in unique containers of various metals before burying each in a different state. I’ll also keep one of the containers – probably a nice sliver locket – with me at all times so that if for any reason it started acting funny, as if to resurrect you, I would be made aware and able to thwart any feeble attempts you may or may not undertake.

“That’s more work than you’re worth. So collect you’re minions and get the hell out of Beacon Hills.” Lydia exhales, it’s always so much work crushing someone.

She walks to where his grimoire has landed and picks it up. “Oh, and I’m keeping this.”

When she looks at the man again, he’s scrambling out the door, conveniently leaving his followers behind. 

She turns her attention to Stiles, who’s smiling around his gag and giving her two thumbs up. He makes it so easy to hate him. If she hadn’t fallen for that damn Stilinski charm she’d leave him here as a lesson. 

Sighing, she grabs the discarded knife and cuts his bindings. He’s pulling out the gag so she levels him a look. “Not a word.” Lydia reminds him the consequences of disobeying that order with an eyebrow. “Not a word.”

Stiles mock salutes. She’s already regretting saving his dumb ass.

“Free those idiots,” Lydia waves the still perfectly manicured hand towards the sleeping wolves. “I’m going home to finish my movie. Don’t bother me.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, just exits the structure, gets in her car and drives home. She’ll text Stiles tomorrow to make sure everyone got home safely but right now she needs her Gosling fix.


End file.
